Induced Blooming
by Nosferatu's Cigarette Binge
Summary: Absolutely crack-pot version of the 12th Doctor. Mine is an insane, bi, jumper wearing, shoe buying, pain-in-the bum. Posted just for fun.


_Author's Note: I have seen next to nothing of Capaldi's Doctor. Just the end of the Christmas Special and the photo of his outfit. This version of the Doctor was cooked up Saturday evening when a friend and I went shopping. This is posted purely for kicks and newtons._

* * *

The Doctor ran from the console room into the hallway; groaning, hands shaking violently. Clara heard several loud crashes issue from the hall after he was out of sight, and, as she was about to see what he was up to, the Doctor came crashing back in the room.

"Whammo!" he yelled, nearly falling. He'd changed into an over-sized wildly patterned, early 90's jumper, black leggings and trainers.

"What the-"

"Like 'em, eh? My new threads? Soooooo much more comfortable than what I've worn for the past few hundred years."

"This is what you're going to wear all the time now. 24/7?"

"Yeah," he replied, pursing his lips.

"No."

Silence.

"Doctor, I said NO!"

More silence. Clara raised her hands in resignation. He continued ignoring her, as he was busy running his hands through his hair in a mirror. "New new new new new new newy new new," he sang. "Every part of me is new." His eyes widened. "Every part. Every blessed one. Want to test out some of them new secret parts?" He raised an eyebrow. "Oh wait, did I just say that?" He asked himself, shrugging his shoulders. "Hmmmm. Although... somehow saying that now doesn't feel too bad. Yeah. Pretty good really. Maybe this is how I am this time 'round. Perhaps a little of Captain Jack rubbed off on me... Ooh but not the way I'd like him to." He laughed coarsely. "Did I just...?"

Clara, bewildered, looked on, mouth open.

"Whoo. Guess I really am going to be _that_ way. Not even in this body 10 minutes and already the..." His eyes clouded over. "Right." He cleared his throat. "Ready for an advin-tin-tin?"

"What?"

"Trippy-whip? Doodle-dangle? Cracky-snafgutter? Funny-wunny timey-wimeys?" His voice lowered and he waggled his brows again as he made his fingers do a can-can on the TARDIS console.

"I'm not sure I want to answer that."

"Wise decision."

Clara suddenly felt very self-conscious. She looked down and over her mini-skirt and low-cut blouse, and, as if the Doctor knew what she was thinking, he began to ogle her. "Let's go somewhere," she started. "I don't care where. You choose." She raised her hand over her clavicle.

"Righto!" He chirruped, pulling a lever.

"I'm... I'm just going in my room for a minute. Won't be long." She saw that he was now running his hands over his face, pulling on his ears. "Fine, fine," he mumbled.

Clara slipped through the door and into her room. She searched through what clothing she had brought with her. Desperately raking through article after article, she found that most of her duds were slightly different versions of what she was already wearing. Sighing, she started back towards the console room. Cracking open the door, she heard loud music.

_"And I've been wondering why I like it rough. Yeah I like it rough."_ She saw The Doctor from behind, slowly swiveling his hips in a raunchy dance, his arms wrapped tightly around himself in a hug.

"DOCTOR!"

"Wha- Oh!" He turned around and continued dancing in place. "Well, I can't help but wonder why I like it rough. Always have. Always will. Oh talking about liking it rough, that Maggie Smith ... Oh-ho-ho! I- I could tell you a few things about that gal. She actually taught me a... and Mick Jagger put in a few as well... Oh. Um. What is it Clara fair-a?"

"Yeah. Don't ever call me that again... or talk about your sex life. GOD!" She recoiled and acted as though she might be sick.

" 'least you know I've got one."

"Really, I would have rather it been left a mystery."

"Whatevs."

It took Clara a few seconds to recover from that one. "The place we're going to - hot or cold?"

"What'cha wanna know for?"

"Clothes. What to wear."

"And what not to wear. Mmm..." He looked to the screen. "I'd say warm. As little as needed." He cranked up the volume to drown out whatever she might have fired back. Slamming the door Clara ran to the clothing room. There had to be something in there she could borrow.

* * *

Five Minutes Later

* * *

Clara re-entered the room wearing a brightly colored 1970's ankle-length house dress.

"Honestly." He tsked, shaking his head upon seeing her. "Fine. Be that way. The more you have on the less I'll wear." He began pulling off his shirt.

"NO! Stop it. I mean..." She put her hands on her forehead. In his last body she would have loved to have seen him undo his bow-tie, let alone take off his shirt. She didn't know why, now that he was in a different body, she didn't want to see him. It didn't seem fair. The Doctor was still in there - deeply buried. Somewhere. No, she realized, it wasn't his body, but his new attitude.

He sighed. "You are no fun at all."

"That's me. 'No Fun Clara Oswin'."

He waved her off. "Are you ready?"

"More than."

"You realize this is our first day out together!? How ex-cit-e-ing," he said, pushing open the door. Clara expected the unknown outside the TARDIS, an alien civilization, a medieval village... anything rather than the shopping plaza that met her. She just stood there, her mouth open, and stared at him.

"What? WHAT?!" He squawked.

She moved her hand in the air. "Well, besides the obvious, it's 70 degrees. "Wear as little as possible"? Seriously?! You wanted me to go shopping in a bikini?"

"It would have made things much more interesting for me."

She smacked his arm. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"

"$%^*(#! Clara! Jeesh. I've just regenerated. My body, my mind... everything is messed up. It's is just part of the deal. It's temporary, I swear. I'll be back to my old self in no time. #&% You don't hear me complain about all your womanly mood changes."

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare go there!"

"See. I told you, you don't hear me complain about them! But only because you won't let me!"

"HMMPH!" Clara stormed off into a shoe store. He followed in frantic, darting steps.

"Let me buy a gift?!" He ran to her side, looking over her face. She ignored him.

"Ok, girly-wonder, you do your thing and I'll do mine. Toodles. Oodles. Boodles."

* * *

36 Minutes Later

* * *

Clara had several pairs of shoes picked out, most practical, trendy flats and heeled boots, when she saw the Doctor approaching her.

"Listen, I would have told you what to expect if I had thought I would regenerate again."

"No. No. It's fine. I get it... You will come out of it soon through, right?"

He was silent.

"RIGHT?!"

"Not really. Well, I've never known myself to. See I kind of made that up." He stopped and thought. "When I get a new body the old personality changes as well. On the permanent side." He shirked then realized himself. "What, am I liar as well? #$!%"

"Pervy and a liar. Great." She balanced four boxes of shoes as she followed him. "Just like all other men."

"Ah! But I'm the only lying pervert you know with a with a blue box."

Clara observed a young couple in the distance, ignoring him.

"Are you going to get all those?" He asked of the shoes beside her.

"Yeah. I need some and you said I could have a gift."

"I did?! OH! I meant me! I need a gift! It is a sort of birthday for me... sort of. But I still haven't found THE right pair of shoes. Y-You can get yours too, though. Plenty of money." He patted his side.

"None of these shoes," she glanced around the huge store, "will do?"

"Well, I'm going to be wearing the shoes as long as I'm in this body which, you know, hopefully will be a very, very long time."

"What is it with you and wearing the same clothes all the time? You have a HUGE room full of nice clothes. And you won't even dress in the proper clothes to blend in with the time periods we visit most of the time. I don't understand it."

"Then don't try to." Suddenly the Doctor took off running, gravitating towards a display of fancy dress shoes. He hurriedly removed a pair of bright purple heels and slipped them on. He sauntered to a mirror and got an eyeful of his ankles and feet. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Though I couldn't run in these heels. Shame." He put them back. "You see anything that suits me, Clara?"

"What about these?" She nodded to a pair of brown casual shoes.

"NAH! Gag me with a spoon already. YECK! Yecky. NO! OOOOOOH! Now wait. I've found them! I've found them. Right here." The shoes he was going insane over were black jewel studded ballet flats."These are them! These are they." He pressed the shoes to his cheek, tried them on and whisked Clara away to the sales counter.

* * *

To be continued... (?)


End file.
